Hope Still Flies
by YourPontmercyFriend
Summary: Canon era Les Mis. Grantaire goes with his friends to the barricade and sees more of Enjolras than he than he thought he would. I'mjuggling a live production I saw, the movie, the book, and my input so bear with me. Joly Bossuet Les Miserables Friends of the ABC Les Anis rated M for violence and moderate gore


Grantaire took a larger swig of wine than is generally recommended and stared at Enjolras. Enjolras had prepared another speech today, likely a pile of beautiful, naive lies that Grantaire wanted to hear every word of.

Joly and Bossuet disturbed the peace of his corner by sitting at his table, Joly bumping it with a cane and Bossuet elaborately tripping himself over his own chair. Grantaire finished off the whole bottle and then slammed the bottle down with a hiccup. He grinned at his company as he waited for Enjolras to start speaking and eyed Joly up and down. "Best dressed again I see! Did you get your coat tailored again?"

"Yes, actually. Tailored specifically because I just got fitted for a corset."

"Ahhhhhh. Trying to charm your Musichetta?"

"Well," Joly ran a hand over his abdomen and said, "It's not very tight and really more for supporting my back and slimming me a little. I wouldn't be able to have a wasp waist, too much risk of hurting myself, but I think this is alright."

"I think he looks absolutely dashing," said Bossuet. "Joly est joli."

Bahorel pulled up a chair beside Joly and shook his head, "I told you to get doeskin pants and you come back with a corset. Attractive, yes, but ladies like seeing legs. I think you'd be much more successful with shrinking doeskin to yourself than working on your already nice figure."

"Actually," said Jehan who was at an adjacent table. "Ladies love words more than anything else. When you are no longer there to gives kisses, your voice and pen still leave her memories more steeped in your essence than even the most passionate coupling."

Grantaire groaned loudly and dejectedly looked at his empty bottle. "Bring anything up with Jehan and it'll get connected to death somehow. Get me more wine, someone! I'm depressed."

He reached into his pocket as Bahorel left to get another bottle and grabbed his red handkerchief. Grantaire held it up and said, "It's the exact color of Enjolras's coat."

"I can't believe you bought a handkerchief that matches Enjolras," said Jehan.

"I can," said Joly.

Bahorel came back with the wine and Grantaire expertly uncorked it and leaned back in his chair as he drank. Joly gazed as Grantaire nearly finished the entire thing before setting it down with a gulp left beside the empty bottle. "Goodness."

"It's less than your mouth will be on your mistress tonight."

"Ahem!" Enjolras stood on top of a table and Grantaire stared at him. Enjolras's gaze only rested on his for a second and Grantaire frowned.

"Gentlemen, we have a major problem."

"Only one?" called out Grantaire. While he was in Enjolras's sight he waved the crimson piece of fabric in his hand and smiled sweetly.

Enjolras scowled and continued, "Our only government asset, Lamarque, is dying. Soon, we shall have to fight alongside the people to gain our basic rights! We will rally them to our cause, show them the truth about the monarchy..."

Grantaire tuned out Enjolras's words and focused on his passion. Enjolras's cheeks tinged with pink as his heart bear quicker and Grantaire shivered at the fiery expression of too much yellow bile he was witnessing. Enjolras gave off a hot aura and Grantaire wanted to bathe in it and truly feel Enjolras's heat and his ponytail coming undone in his hand and his pale smooth skin moist with sweat as Grantaire-"

"RED!" shouted Enjolras in Grantaire's face. Enjolras picked up Grantaire's handkerchief and waved it in Grantaire's face. "This is our flag! Pay attention!"

Grantaire put on an overly scandalized expression and took his handkerchief, now blessed by Enjolras's touch, and said, "So sad that the color of love and desire should be turned into the banner of bloodshed."

"Quiet with your drunken ramblings. Your very presence in this room is annoying enough!"

"Enjolras." Courfeyrac came up to Enjolras and said, "Be calm and benevolent. Grantaire is a friend. Put your frustration into something worthwhile."

As Enjolras started talking again with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly helping him refine things Grantaire muttered, "A great place for his frustration would be my ass."

Joly and Bossuet burst into laughter and Enjolras glowered at the back table.

"I'd expect this behavior from Grantaire, but you two are respectable!" Enjolras sighed and continued his speech as Grantaire longingly stared.

-my friends my friends this is a page break-

Joly had his cravat tied over his nose and mouth as he watched the molten pewter made from cheap spoons in the café. Now seemed a good time for fluxing, so he dropped a chunk of candle wax in and waited for it to attract the impurities.

"Jolllly." Grantaire plopped down at a chair by Joly's workstation. "Awfully unfair of you to be hogging a fire."

"I'm preparing pewter to be made into bullets. I have every right to this fire. Besides, it's summer and already stuffy in here."

"I just want to be close to you, you beautiful four winged creature." Grantaire could tell Joly was smiling behind the cravat mask and continued talking, "Where's Bossuet and how did it go with Musichetta?"

"She was pleasantly surprised and started liking me more after I proved I really want to please her, and Bossuet thought it was a good idea to stay away from the molten metal. I believe he's still out trying to find more recruits. He's very good humored and impossible to not like so I'm sure he'll bring more back."

Grantaire took a large swig of wine out of a bottle Joly hadn't even noticed and said, "This war business is depressing. I'm watching the happiest person I've ever met, and a medical student at that, make bullets to kill people."

Joly's eyes clouded and he frowned as he used a ladle to scoop out the wax with the grit it had picked up. "No one here likes what they're doing. This is awful, terrifying, and heartbreaking to do. I don't want to fight or kill anyone. I know what bullet wounds look like, particularly when the bullet shatters and I get sick to my stomach. I know the sort of illnesses you can pick up in a war and a summer rain. But," water firmed in Joly's eyes and he hurriedly wiped it away, "If I can make a better world for the people of this country so they won't starve or be abused, then I will fight."

"You are a doctor. Your life is serving above what most others will ever do."

"Musichetta might be pregnant."

"What?!" Grantaire leapt up and gasped, "You and Bossuet might be dads?"

Joly nodded and closed his eyes. "Imagine if I didn't go and try to make the world a better place not only for me but for my baby. No parent would want to bring their child up in this." Joly gestured to the room as though he was gesturing to the entire world. "If I die and the child grows up with its mother and aunts and uncles then fine. Because maybe if I die, it won't have to." Joly started fully crying and Grantaire motioned Feuilly over.

"You can deal with the pewter, right Feuilly?"

"I've done metalworking."

"Good."

Grantaire led Joly away and hugged him. Enjolras looked at the two of them and asked, "What did you do, Grantaire?"

"I was an unpleasant reality check. Don't worry, our happy young Joly will still loyally die for your cause."

"It is not MY cause!" roared Enjolras, making the bustling activity cease. "It is the demand of our conscience, the cry of the oppressed, the screams of the tortured, and the growling stomachs of the starving. It is the call of our souls to try and rescue this society we live in. Never link it exclusively to me ever again. In fact, why don't you just go? Why are you even here?"

Enjolras was looking at Grantaire with loathing and Grantaire fought the urge to run away. He wanted to make Enjolras happy. He wanted to make him proud and glad he was here and show him he was worthy to breathe the same air. Even if he wasn't.

Grantaire bowed his head and asked, "Do you want me here?"

"Yes."

Grantaire's head snapped up so quickly his neck popped to see Enjolras giving him a severe look. "I want you here. Only if you want to be here and work."

Grantaire pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Enjolras. He realized he couldn't have looked too noble with his messy hair and bright orange waistcoat but he tried anyways. "Let me stand by you."

Enjolras looked at the little red square and Grantaire felt his heart warm when Enjolras pocketed it. "Alright," he said softly.

Joly looked uncomfortable and asked, "My cane's over there by the table, would you bring it over?"

Enjolras strode over and carried Joly's cane to him so he could stop leaning on Grantaire. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Joly went to assist Feuilly with the pewter and Enjolras was left with Grantaire.

"You will fight with us?"

"Yes."

"You're committing to this?"

Grantaire looked into Enjolras's eyes and said, "My life is yours. I'll do anything for you."

-my friends my friends this is a page break-

The flagpole was heavy and slightly unwieldy but Grantaire spread his legs apart for balance and waved the crimson banner back and forth in large arcs. The funeral procession had escalated to a riot with their help and Grantaire was on top of a cart that was being pulled by a horse who knew where it was going and plodded along completely unbothered by the noise or guns.

Enjolras looked back at Grantaire with approval and then shouted, "TO THE BARRICADE!"

Grantaire jumped down and held the flag out on front of him as he ran to clear the way. Some of the military were taking potshots at some of the students and Grantaire made himself run faster.

We're all going to die, he was sure.

Also, he needed a drink.

Grantaire made it to the street of the café and tosses the flag to Enjolras, who caught it and stuck it in the top of the barricade. Grantaire climbed over and Combeferre helped him over a chair that was hard to get around.

The café luckily still had some wine and Grantaire helped himself to a bottle. He drank and stared at Enjolras in the distance on top of the barricade and he tried to get rid of his panic.

They were going to die.

Enjolras hated him, and here he was. Drinking in his presence like there was no tomorrow because there actually probably wouldn't be one.

Enjolras was so confident even at the barricade which would likely be his tomb. Grantaire looked at Enjolras openly with love now and admired his composure and faith that this was really going to work. Grantaire longed to be able to share in the blatant optimism surrounding him but found himself cut off. He imagined what it would be like to see Enjolras smiled at him or tell him he was good but he found himself so patched from the thought he finished the bottle.

Enjolras may love the hardworking, independent, artisan Feuilly or the deep philosopher Combeferre but he would never love Grantaire. Grantaire's heart ached and he drank even more to try and drown out the pain of the sun shunning him.

"Hey Grantaire." Jehan settled down beside him and asked, "Got a pipe?"

"No."

"Blast! Snuff?"

"I do a lot of things, just none of the things you do. Got any opium?"

Jehan sighed and leaned against Grantaire. "I don't do that often enough to have it on me, no. I'm exhausted."

"Then sleep for the last time in your life."

"The glass is always half empty with you."

"Actually I think you'll find it completely full." Grantaire winked at him and held up the wine bottle before downing it.

Grantaire watched Enjolras send a volunteer spy to learn what the military's plan was and let his eyes glaze over afterwards.

With the alcohol in his system and despair taking over Grantaire's mind floated through the events of Javert being caught as a spy and the first attack. He dimly processed Eponine's death and as people loitered about he stood up.

Grantaire grabbed a wine bottle and went around offering everyone a drink while Jehan engaged people in reminiscing for poetry material.

After he offered everyone but Enjolras wine he was stuck with half a bottle and a yearning to talk to Enjolras. Enjolras was perched near the top of the barricade and Grantaire motioned him down. To his surprise, Enjolras came down and stood in front of him.

"Yes?"

Grantaire couldn't find words so he held out the wine and waited for Enjolras to do something.

Enjolras looked at him with softness Grantaire was not expecting. He pushed the bottle back towards Grantaire and said gently, "No thank you." He took the red handkerchief Grantaire had given him out of his pocket and pressed it into Grantaire other hand.

Grantaire stared at Enjolras as he walked away. He clenched the fabric in his hand and set the bottle down.

He did not drink again.

"Enjolras!"

Enjolras came back and Grantaire shifted on his feet. "How do you know your death will be worth anything? How do you have such faith that dying like that girl who was shot saving Marius will do any good?"

"Because I must rise above being a person. If we win, of course it is a victory. If we lose, I become a symbol. I will be proof that the good of the people is worth fighting for. People will look back on me not as a hero, but as a tragic figure they need to avenge or be inspired by to carry on my work."

"What if no one remembers you? You become another body to add to a count?"

"Then maybe another tear will be shed for me in the future."

"YOU ARE A PERSON!" Grantaire shouted. "You are a person who is living and breathing and wonderful with a story to tell and people and places to love and food to taste and smiles to give and plays to see and it isn't fair that I will lose you over the idiocy of a society!" Grantaire was screeching by the end of it and he was almost in tears.

Enjolras did not look taken aback or surprised. He reached out and stroked Grantaire's shoulder. "Life has not allowed me to be normal, capital R. I wish I could be a person with you."

Grantaire wiped his eyes and climbed up on the barricade to be next to Enjolras. He fidgeted with the cloth in his hands and let himself believe for a night that people would rise and come to their side as Grantaire had, against all odds.

-my friends my friends this is a page break-

Jehan had been captured.

He was roughly dragged over to the military side and given enough punches and kicks and hits with carbine barrels to make him too battered to fight against being tied.

He hoped they would spare his life, even as a bargaining chip.

Jehan bit his tongue as he thought of the unfinished poems he had interspersed in his scholarly papers and books.

Several guns clicked and he realized they were too scared to keep him around.

"Vive la France!" he cried out, hoping for an ear to turn to him in any time or any place, just a soul who would hear his final words.

"LONG LIVE THE FUTURE!"

-my friends my friends this is a page break-

The morning came too fast with a lack of rest and dry gunpowder.

"Gavroche! Gavroche come back!"

"What're you doing, come back?"

The adults on the barricade whispered furiously and desperately to get Gavroche to come back to safety.

The fatal bullet went off and killed the twelve year old and Grantaire leaned over a broken piece of furniture and wept loudly and on his own. The others were busy comforting each other or doing something productive so Grantaire had to wail in his heartache all on his own.

The barricade was hailed and the last battle was started.

Courfeyrac was the first to fall. His boyish, bright features were covered with blood when he was shot at point blank through the nose.

Feuilly and Combeferre were side by side and Feuilly was shot from a distance. Bahorel ran from another section to take his place and was immediately shot as well.

Joly was on the other side in a sheltered spot that gave out once a canon ball hit a spot near him. He scrambled up to a different foothold and whimpered when his leg nearly tripped him up. He recovered only to find out his rifle was out of ammunition and to see a soldier directly in front of him.

With no thinking Joly swung his cane hard and brought it down on the soldiers head and cracked his skull open and broke his cane. Another one was right behind the one he'd killed and Joly shoved the splintered end of his cane still in his hand through the bottom of the soldier's chin.

Joly was stuck and helpless and seconds later was stabbed in the arm by a bayonet, shot in the chest twice and died.

Bossuet, who was amazed at still being alive, was shot in the leg, shoulder, and then side of the head in rapid succession before dying right beside Joly, an eagle who died once his wings were taken away.

Combeferre panted hard and dropped the pistols he was dual-wielding and reached down to see if Feuilly was still alive. Combferre was run through by three bayonets and looked up to the sky before he took his last breath and collapsed.

Enjolras and Grantaire were among the few left. Enjolras was vicious as he struck down man after man in the never ending swarm of bodies. Grantaire handed him weapons whenever his current one broke or he needed more bullets. Both were covered with sweat and blood from the fallen friends around them and knew they could only hold out for so long. Grantaire's eyes had not been free of tears since the day before and he spent all of his energy buying Enjolras seconds more of time.

A canon blast rocked the barricade and sent such a shock through it that Enjolras and Grantaire dropped their weapons and Grantaire lost his balance.

Because of the comfort it had become, Grantaire whipped out the red handkerchief and held it in his hand as he flailed for balance.

A warm hand grabbed his.

Enjolras looked down at him from the taller part of the barricade he was on and smiled at Grantaire as he held his hand with the bright red cloth.

Red, a world about to dawn.

Bullets rained down in a hellish frenzy upon their unprotected bodies and pierces through bone, muscles, and veins. Grantaire and Enjolras's last memory of earth before the heavenly Valkyries took them was of each other.

Black, the night that ends at last.


End file.
